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Owen Cafe Sep 2019
When I was young, I could fly.
From thought to wish to dream to the sky.
When I was becoming, I could think.
I thought I'd thought that they were thinking,
that I was simply thoughtless.
When I was discovering, I could feel.
I could feel the feelings of earth of mind of soul,
those feelings connected though fingertips and goosebumps.
When I fell, I couldn't see.
I could not see that they could see that I was blind,
the view is up when you are down.
When I was climbing, I grew strong.
Could see the bumps in the road, the connections,
the grips, the traps, the full scale of the map.

Then I saw it. Not far now.
Just another corner, my branches are full of colour and life.
I can see the flowers ready to bloom.

Spring is coming, and I am too.
Reflective appreciation of realizing the future.
Andra Sep 2019
he was always a mystery to me.
no matter how much i thought i could observe him from afar.

i know
his style
his gestures
the way he lights up a cigarette
how he argues
how he jokes around
i know the dimple in the corner of his mouth that appears when
he smiles.

i never had the courage to even hope of being next to him.
it's strange to work with someone you admire in a way
you don't even understand.
cause it was not a "fell in love" type of feeling, but more like a weird chemical reaction that was happening
within me.

and last night
i thought i was discovering him.
that i will get to discover him.
but he only left me with more mystery.
with every thing he showed me
everything he revealed to me:
the affection
the caress
the kisses
even that birthmark,
the more mysterious he would get.

today i discovered
how much he wants to be a father
how much he wants someone
how sensitive he is.

and i know i should not be sad thinking now, alone, about what happened
but i should be happy that the moment existed.
that for a few instants,
in the intimacy that we built together
he was mine only,
he gave himself to me entirely
and let a few masks fall.

"Coffee, yes?"
well...

and now i ask you, stay!

but i'll pour another glass of waiting. this bar is never closing.
zane Sep 2019
I put all my eggs in one basket
and hurt myself over and over,
I push people away and don't know why
I get frustrated and usually cry.
I tend to hold my breathe
not being able to put my mind to rest,
what's the reasoning behind
my feelings of mistrust and worry?
why do I get so attached
or
not know how to hold on?
for me I know when it's solid
I can feel it eventually being a safe space
or
I can feel it getting old and fading out.
every time someone incredible is uncovered
a way is found for them to leave me.
whether it's my own doing
or
their life leading them else where.
aquanerine Aug 2019
1+1
I wish I could follow
without it leading to dissatisfaction

my excessive traits
leave me feeling left out

and when they're the same
my sum is just not enough

my concerns become toxic
until I can't think any longer

I wish for a balance
while understanding both sides

all in this world of many
whilst I am just one
John H Dillinger Aug 2019
The Lightning Bolt

A spark,
The first beat of a new formed heart,
The Start -
A new journey begins.

And although the destination is always home,
Exactly where it started,
She understands that what is really important
Is what the journey has imparted.

So, She packs up the old car with just enough,
What She really needs lies just off the road ahead:
In each warm meal she's fed,
Each new path she treads,

Each warm bed,
With pleasant company.
She lets Her mind adjust to thinking free,
Opens it to a thousand new born possibilities,

Conceived somewhere between the highest mountain
To where the land is caressed by sea,
Where She
Is ready to jump in.


She stops, first, at a highland lake,
Sits at the waters edge watching purpling clouds
Gathering in the reflection of the water,
Hugging Her knees tight.

The hair on Her arms begins to stand up,
Her grip on Herself crescendos,
Adrenaline forces Her to feel Her heart,
Just as the storm is about to start.

The electric light,
Blue, Purple and Hot White,
The water bouncing Light,
So bright,
It stole Her breath.

Then it rippled it toward Her in a rumble;
It grew, now roaring,
She tucked Her face into Her knees
And felt Her breath tugging at the trees.

She caught it there, with Her frantic heart,
And forced Her eyes to take a glance,
To behold this violent beauty, this was Her chance,
So, abandoning all Her fear,
She began to dance.

The rain fell hard
And each of Her senses became flooded:

The taste of fresh rain & sweat,
The clothes now clinging to Her skin.
It evaporated all regret
As She listened to the world sing.


She lost Herself at that lonesome lake,
Taken off with the storm and lightning
But the thought only made Her smile,
It wasn't frighting.

Whatever moved Her muscles now
Carried Her to the car, dripping, sodden.
She turned the key in the ignition
And on the radio came something She'd forgotten.

The melody clung to Her like Her clothes,
It drew memories that washed over Her,
Like the rain moments before,
She quickly turned off the ignition
But the key couldn't close that door,
Swung open by the vibrations -

She came back to Herself like a hard-felt revelation.

She smiled then and collapsed on the steering wheel,
In awe of the indulgent moment,
Knowing what it was, in one way,
To be taken apart, all those components,

Scattered in the storm,
Only to be reborn.


As the clouds passed that day,
Summer arrived,
Blooming flowers in the meadows
And along the roadside.

She tried to push on,
But Summer was insistent,
It told Her, take it easy,
It's seductive tone not easily resisted.

And Thus Her journey changed it's course,
Bending, as things do, to even the gentlest force
Like a leaf in a summer's breeze;
She could feel life begin to tickle and tease

And on, And please...
Written for a friend, a beautiful soul and a dreamer..
Atoosa Aug 2019
Where my softness meets your hard body
Curve and angle merge to one uneven line of truth
Your arms entwine and protect me -even from myself
Melodies pulse in the open window... echoes of our reawakened youth
Savor the thrill of your heartbeat thrumming against my breast
Passion flows and overwhelms me but I come tumbling as you fall
"I'm yours only" you breathe, your eyes blazing with candle flame
Earnest gifts of respect and loyalty in every whisper of my name
How can a heart be unmoved by such open offerings?
J J Aug 2019
Cresol dusk imbued to rustic hypnosis,
The civic stroll outside,zombified with
What must be glorious ataxia.

The masquerade hosted by dust,
An implicit surrender to the elements,
Basked in nocturnia-- lo,

The elements ceased having meaning
When I learnt I could not hold control
  over them.

See the sky ramp and shiver,shuffling stars
In a showcase to those loving,an augury to those
Self-appointed sinners--

And see me,disconnected and without a care,
I surrender my breath as limboid tangents
And the elements do not rebut.

I am homed in becoming alone,
I am possessed in converse and I am lost
  without the choice to be otherwise.

I watch the gimcrack mannerisms loop effably,
Understanding the road to omniscience is tipped
In ego alone--

One must not surrender,rather accept
And work a way round the system.
The cosmic map is eidetic,it's lanuage
  dares not pander to speech,
  it's sleep is one day needed
  and complimentary to our own--

I listen to the madrigal and no longer seek to compose it,
I choose to believe that nothing is chosen.
(LONG AFTERWARD) I began posting here under a different name years ago and decided to revisit the site only recently after a string of publishing rejections,despite an urge to abandon poetry all together. What's amazed me most is the growth of talent,particularly one S. Olsen,looking through much of my older work(few of which ive published here) I've found a lot of similarities,from similar phrasing's,vocabulary,format's,viewpoint's,etc. Despite not knowing of him until recently. Simply put,he is the poet i aspired to be when poetry was what my life revolved around,the best of his kind. I would rank him among my favourite contemporaries and if not for this site I'd never have discovered him, this poem shows more of my voice than his,I think,but that is a further example of his own unreplicable voice. Keep strong,brother, whatever helps helps and your writing has helped me greatly.
Pyrrha Aug 2019
I've wasted so much time on being told who I am
That I no longer have any time to discover myself
I feel like I have amnesia
And no one is being honest
They tell me one thing but it feels like another
I can't think for myself because "I don't know"
Is it 'I don't know', or 'I'm not allowed to find out'?

It's like amnesia, but with the memories
Vernell Allen Aug 2019
A shelter for the insects to fester.
A refuge for rotting dreams.
A being with no identity.
A splint within reality
I want to harbor in.
A dying fire buried
under ash that can still burn.
I want to touch and know
what it means to feel.
I hope to reincarnate
the other piece of my soul
Before this body is dust.
'let's walk to the ocean'
said the passing clown to the mime
it's quite a long way
expressed the mime
'yes it is?'
the clown replied
mime frowned
and they began walking...
clown in his big floppy red shoes
mime improvising as he went

at the edge of town they ran into a juggler
on the corner trying to pick up a few coins in his cup
clown asked the juggler if he'd care to join them
in their walk to the ocean
juggler said 'why not, things are kind of
up in the air for me right now'
they headed west toward the coast
clown had 5 boxes of Mike and Ikes...every flavor
in his red scarf on a stick
mime had plenty of slim jims
this would keep them fed until they reached their destination

several hours into their odyssey
a storm approached
a lone well drawn pine provided refuge until the storm cleared
as well as a snack and chance to learn of each other's journey
to this point
clown had done many things throughout his life
in pursuit of love, home and family
but he had failed in his search for a life he always dreamed of
and now this face of heavy make-up and big red nose would
hide the fact that he lived a life of constant sadness
mime had been a singer and worked for years to perfect
his craft... dreamed of making it to the big stage
but he refused to sing what they wanted him to sing and even though he had amazing talent, he was refused time and time again
becoming a mime would mean he'd never be reminded of the beautiful voice he possessed
juggler was a star pitcher known for his amazing fastball when he graduated college and was only days from signing a contract with the Yankees when a car accident damaged his shoulder so severely he lost his fastball
he juggles to keep his arm in shape in case his fastball ever returns
juggler asked clown why they were headed to the beach
mime was interested as well and produced the perfect look of inquiry
clown stood up...tossed the red scarf on a stick full of Mike & Ike's over his shoulder, brushed himself off and replied...
'why not?'
no idea where this came from
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